Tourniquet
by polymorphine
Summary: Set after summer finale, Episode 7.11 Follow up: Fragments, Episode 7.12
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry Harvey. I just had to know."

Donna's fingers slide down his arm, the fabric of his suit tingling with the billions of nerve endings in her fingertips, the structure, the smoothness of the wool and silk mix, but it's nothing compared to the warmth of his skin on his neck or the softness of his hair where they passed just seconds ago.

Nothing compared to the firmness of his jawline, or the slight hint of a 5 o'clock shadow, revealing the discrepancy between the rough and the more delicate areas of his face, of him.

Her lips still pound from the sensation of his, but she manages to look him straight in the eyes, without even a single blink.

Her voice is steady, calm, confident. No hint of the turmoil she is actually feeling, that is twisting her guts, performing somersaults with her heart, making her knees so weak she doubts she can walk away from him or even continue standing here.  
But she has to. She has to go, now.

She can't be here any more.

As she lets go of his arm, the back of her palm strikes his, so subtle and gentle, that even she isn't sure it actually happened.

The vulnerability in his gaze, the shock that is written all over his face, tries to put a tear or two into the corner of her eyes, but she withstands the urge to break down.

Suddenly a blank and bold detachment washes over her like the unforgiving waves of the atlantic ocean on a winter's day, filling her with absolutely nothing, leaving her empty and numb instead.

She breaks the spell, regaining control of her knees and feet, and heads to the door of her office, leaving him behind.

* * *

"Good, you're still here. Where's Louis? Cause I have some news and I think you should both…"

Harvey never gets to finish his sentence.

All he grasps is that Donna walks up to him vigorously, wraps her arms around his neck and presses her mouth on his lips.

'What the f…' echoes in his mind as his eyebrows automatically rise up just by the pure surprise, not to say shock of the whole situation when milliseconds later the sensation of her soft lips caressing his own kicks in, her fingers playing with the hair in the back of his head, her auburn locks striking his face.

Right this moment, everything else is erased, all he can do is to just give in.

His mind shuts down completely as do his eyes and he leans in towards her, too eager to feel more of her, to explore her taste, to extend this exquisite sensation when suddenly all of this ends abruptly.

She disconnects their locked lips, removing herself slightly but surely away from him.

He is even more shocked about this than about anything else, the thought that this kiss would actually end at any point in the near future didn't even cross his mind for the past couple of moments.

He looks bewildered into Donna's hazel eyes, confusion distorting his features, when the realization of what just happened flashes over him, forcing his brain to start working again, thinking again.

The look on her face is startling him, her controlled and almost cold expression is the absolute opposite of what he would have expected, not resembling his own emotional turmoil at all.

He searches her eyes for an answer, for anything at this point, he wouldn't give two shits about what exactly, just any form of explanation, of his own torn apart state reflecting in her stare.

"I'm sorry Harvey. I just had to know."

Donna's eyes close as she passes by his side, heading to the door.

In a last attempt to give this any kind of reasonable frame, he turns around to catch a glimpse of her red hair while she walked away from him.

From all of it.

Her last words didn't make any sense to him, and just to be exact, none of it made any fucking sense to him right now.

His eyes wander around, blind for the skyline outside the office window, blind for the interior of her playfully but also professional decorated office, even blind for his own image reflected in the glass upon the dark surface of the night.

* * *

Donna pushes the elevator button in an almost brutal stakkato, as the panic sets in.

What on earth did she just do?

Did she just kiss him?

And the more urgent question right now was definitely if he would go after her and ask her what the fuck she did back there in her new COO office.

What the hell she was thinking when she kissed him, being in a serious relationship with a serious woman.

Being the managing partner of the firm she worked in.

Being her friend and companion for the past 13 years.

Just hours after being accused by this piece of scum Andy Malik in court of sleeping her way up into her new position.

The relief she feels as the elevator doors finally slid open has an almost religious aspect to it, as it makes her mumble a silent 'Halleluja' before entering.

She doesn't even turn around to acknowledge the doors closing behind her, too scared she might get a glimpse of Harvey, storming his way through the corridor, his face a mask of anger and disappointment, to confront her about what just has happened.

Yes, she was sorry.

She was sorry to have put their friendship into serious jeopardy.

To endanger his blossoming relationship as well.

To have risked their work relation.

But she knows that she would have been much more sorry about not having tried.

She was just so tired of neglecting her feelings for him, and the speech Louis gave her just minutes before she actually took action, must have been the last drop in her almost fathomless patience with Harvey.

Noticing her contorted features in the mirrored wall of the elevator, she takes a deep breath.

She can't cry right now, although the swallowed tears already smear her mascara into the corners of her eyes.

Trying to diminish the damage before having to exit into the lobby, even in this late hour most likely filled with plenty of people, Donna is still aware that she looks rather devastated.

But well.

She just ruined everything.

Even the absence of a deranged make up wouldn't amend that.

Obscuring her face behind the translucent curtain of her hair, she marches through the lobby without looking left or right.

As the first hints of the cool breeze of the outside strikes her still glowing cheeks, she can't help it but to feel relief.

And the desperate need for a drink. Or several.

* * *

Harvey doesn't know how long he has been standing in the same damn spot where Donna left him, without a single movement or even a single concrete thought.

All he knows is that it must have been a god-awful long time as he notices the cleaning lady passing through the hallway with her mop equipment being mirrored in the window glass behind his own image.

The night increased its intensity, the office hall lights dimmed down, yet still he was standing in Donna's office.

Not that he noticed any of this.

And he couldn't care less about it.

The thing that finally wakes him up from his stupor is the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket.

His heart drops as he realizes it could only be Donna.

Oh god, Donna.

Or it could be even worse.

It could be Paula.

Ice floods his veins as he remembers they had a dinner reservation for tonight in his favourite restaurant.

He lets it go to voicemail without even checking the caller I.D. .

He isn't prepared for neither of them.

God, he isn't even prepared for himself.

His sight gets caught by the bottle of Scotch hidden underneath the little coffee table to his right.

For that sort of turbulence that Donna has forced him to go through, for which any pilot, or co-pilot for that matter, would have been fired in an instant, she at least owed him a fucking drink.

His hand reaches out for the bottle as his pocket is starting to vibrate again.

Ignoring the constant interrupting impulses running down his hip, he pours himself a double.

Whoever of them is calling, they will have to wait until the harsh taste of liquor filled his mouth.

As the Scotch finally tingles his palate, the phone stops annoying him.

He drowns the drink and instantly refills the glass, when the phone reminds him of an unheard voicemail he just received.

The alcohol takes its effect on his empty stomach, the warmth spreading all over his chest, filling his head with a more than welcome numbness.

Whatever this was, whatever has to come next, he couldn't deal with it right now.

All he wanted to do and all he would do, is to sit here in this gloomy room, with the cleaning lady vacuum cleaning the offices of his co-workers and subordinates, holding the Scotch, and refilling his glass til the bottom end.

He could not think of her.

Or of the other her.

Whenever his mind drifted to one of them, he quickly poured more poison into himself.

Whenever his mind wandered off to the consequences of what has happened, he would even pour a larger portion.

After the sixth drink his eyes couldn't focus on a specific point in the room anymore.

Great.

That was exactly what he needed.

Unfortunately that was also the exact moment he heard footsteps approaching his little cave of doom and alcohol abuse.

"Harvey, what in God's sacred name are you still doing here? Why don't you pick up your phone? I've been calling you half night long! Jessica wants her name to put off the wall! She has been disbarred in New York! Holy shit, Harvey, what are we gonna do about this? And besides, what the hell are you doing in Donna's office? Where's Donna?"

Harvey's fingers subconsciously wander off to massage his forehead as he tries not to mumble.

"Not now Louis."

"What do you mean not now Harvey? It's about Jessica!"

Harvey turns his head, his eyes bloodshot, his eyebrows cringe of frustration.

"I said, not now, Louis!"

This time Louis' eyebrows cringe of frustration and also of slight perplexity.

"But Harvey, I...I…"

Harvey interrupts him in a voice more similar to the growling of an animal than any tone a human vocal chord could possibly produce.

"Louis, I really mean it this time. Not now."

Harvey's inner agitation must have been so ridiculously obvious to the point where even such a self centered person as Louis got the hint.

Louis' features undertake a rapid change into a soft and worrying stage, his eyes turn into melted chocolate chip ice cream, his voice husky.

"Harvey, what happened? Is it about Jessica?"

Annoyed to a point of no return, but also noticing that Louis was seriously invested into Harvey's well being this time rather than his own, Harvey clears his throat and soothes it with another sip of the amber coloured liquid.

"No, Louis. It's not about Jessica. It's personal."

"Oh my god, Harvey, what happened? Did Dr. Agard, ehm, I mean, Paula, you know what I mean, did something happen? Did you have a fight or something? Don't worry Harvey, it'll be alright! We call Dr. Lipschitz, heˋll know what to do!"

Harvey rolls his eyes, and a deep sigh leaves the depths of his lungs.

"No Louis, we won't call your psychiatrist. God!"

Harvey covers his face with his hands, slowly letting the fingers slide down to his jaw, where they hesitate and come to an indefinite stop, somewhere near the corners of his mouth.

"Ok Harvey, no Dr. Lipschitz. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. I'll listen. We figure this out."

Louis' eager tone strikes a sensitive nerve in Harvey, holy shit, what the hell was wrong with him?

He is most certainly in no condition to deal with Louis or any of this right now.

Or maybe never.

Never feels about right though.

Harvey's cell phone suddenly starts to act out again, performing a little dance in his pocket.

The minimum amount of relief he felt when Louis told him it was him who was calling is so impetuously removed from him that Harvey suddenly finds himself on the verge of passing out.

His fingers have trouble to pick up the glass and maneuver it to his lips.

"Harvey, your cell phone is ringing."

"I know Louis."

"Don't you want to pick up? It could be Dr. Agard, ehh I mean Paula, or Jessica or…"

"Or Donna."

Harvey looks Louis straight in the eye, well aware that his face will tell the whole story by its own.


	2. Chapter 2

"You must be shitting me!"

Donna's indignant exclamation perishes in the consistent noise of the rush hour traffic, the roads floated by worn out and unnerved individuals on their way home.

And all she wanted at this point was to be one of them.

To arrive at her apartment, kick off the high heels and unzip this gorgeous but uncomfortable black dress, get into her oldest pyjamas, open a bottle of Bordeaux and wallow in this shit which she created all by herself with the little hope it wouldn't seem so disastrous after the 4th glass.

But as it would appear God had other plans for her tonight.

In the meanwhile Donna's right arm threatens to fall off of exhaustion by waving for a taxi two blocks down the Pearson Specter Litt office and by now already the 9th taxi passed her by without even slowing down.

As another taxi approaches, her wild gesturing towards the driver being once again completely overlooked, she decides to perform a more bold maneuver by basically jumping in front of the car.

The brakes squeak, but the vehicle comes to a halt right in front of her, give or take 3 centimeters away from her legs.

Now it's the drivers turn to gesticulate rudely towards her, hitting the horn and curbing down the window just to scream "What the fuck you crazy bitch! I could have killed you!"

Donna ignores all of that, opens the door and smoothly slides into the cab, taking place in the back seat before informing the driver where to take her.

Traffic lights illuminate the dim inside as the driver queues into the seemingly never ending stream of vehicles, unveiling the flaws in the cushions and the overall battered condition of this specific one.

Donna tries to stare out of the window covered by the dust and dirt of several years of New York City, but all she can see is her own face staring back at her.

The desolate imprint on her features, colored by the kaleidoscope of red and yellow taillights, frankly scares her, but what else was she expecting to see right now?

A mischievous smile playing around the corners of her lips?

A playful spark in her maroon eyes?

Well, no, this was clearly not an option after what happened.

And by happened she meant all of it, starting 13 years ago up til now, although especially the past couple of weeks have been probably the most dreadful.

Ever since she found out about Harvey being in a serious relationship with his former psychiatrist.

Well, found out wasn't exactly the correct term though as she literally did not find it out.

So very untypical of her and her skillset, she was so absolutely out of the picture until she has been told by no other than Harvey himself about this new romance winding up in his life.

Maybe she was too occupied by her new job as COO, or the other work related big and small dramas around her, or she just neglected the bits and pieces of hints after hints.

Subconsciously or even on purpose.

For whatever reason, it hit her like a ten ton truck when she heard the words coming out of his mouth.

She wasn't prepared to say the very least.

And it completely threw her off her game.

But she wouldn't be Donna if she wouldn't have given this deceptive performance of already knowing all about it, actually being worth at least an oscar nomination, if not the oscar itself, judging by the immense discrepancy between her real feelings during it and the show she put off for Harvey.

But well, in the end, she confessed to him that it bothered her, the understatement

of the century.

Downplaying it for him.

But also for herself.

It bothered her to the point where she even considered to sleep with a married man just to get it out of her head.

In retrospect that was one of the various reasons that lead her to this moment where for a second she believed that it would be a good idea to march up to Harvey and kiss him.

These suppressed feelings finally took a toll on her, started to ruin her.

Almost made her do things she would never do otherwise.

Made her do things she would never do otherwise as well.

But enough was enough.

She had to admit at least to herself that she did not regret kissing him.

And maybe after the 5th glass of wine she would even admit to herself that he actually for a split second started to kiss her back.

The taxi comes to a sudden and abrupt stop, startling her and waking her up from the almost comatose state she was in, so knee deep sunken in her tumultuous thoughts she did not recognize her own apartment building manifesting right behind the car window.

After giving an extra generous tip for the little scare she gave the driver previously, she exits and heads towards home.

She can almost taste the mellow substance of the Bordeaux on the tip of her tongue and feel the cozy comfort of her pyjamas, as she lets the key slide into the locket, hastingly turning it around, longing for some short period of some sort of peace of mind, if not total amnesia.

* * *

Let's just put it like this.

The wine didn't necessarily help.

Like, at all.

Rather than soothing her sore heart, slowing down the pace of her running wild thoughts, serving as a tourniquet for this self inflicted wide open and immensely bleeding wound, it just has made her even more aware of the consequences that would eventually come her way.

The threadbare, washed out pink flannel of her pyjamas felt rough on her skin, the bottle of Bordeaux she instantly cracked open after setting foot in her flat left a harsh taste in her mouth.

The alcohol surely obstructed her vision but also sharpened her inner focus on what has happened and what was still vague.

After the 4th glass, which normally made her sleepy, she started to restlessly wander around in her apartment, which as for now felt more like a cage she trapped herself in than the familiar domicil she was used to, her last resort if things got out of hand, her safe haven.

Well, not anymore.

Images flash up in her mind, of Harvey sitting on the couch next to her, in the same exact spot she was sitting now, telling her things she craved to hear for a long time.

That with her it was different.

That she was special for him.

And then leaving after telling her he loved her when she was already on the verge of breaking her own rule and invite him to stay overnight.

Or, countless amount of nights for that matter.

But no, things played out very differently from that point on with the both of them.

Donna refills her glass, the last drops of the quite exquisite and normally very delicate ruby liquid remaining on the bottom of the bottle still.

Ok, so one more glass to figure this out.

To prepare herself for the ricochet of the kiss.

At least she can recall and be fully aware that she broke off this specific endeavor for a pretty selfless reason.

He was in a relationship with Paula,

But he also started to kiss her back.

She was on the brink of losing it when she felt his lips open almost imperceptibly, the tip of his tongue close upon merging hers.

And she broke it off before it went to areas which would destroy him and his integrity, stir up his issues with infidelity completely and provoke an allergic reaction towards her, clouding his probably even existing feelings for her to a point he would defy to even examine them for the sole purpose of righteousness.

Although, it would have felt so right to just continue.

And maybe it didn't necessarily mean that he had feelings for her too.

Maybe it was just an instinctive response on his behalf.

In the end, it was Harvey for god's sake.

But ok, she made her move.

Putting it out in the open and basically lay out her heart in front of his feet.

Giving him the opportunity to whether step right on it or to pick it up instead.

The anticipation lurking under the surface, her eyes drift off to her cell phone hidden under several wraps of Twinkies she forced into her stomach to have some basis for the upcoming alcohol consumption.

On her first glass, she disabled the sound alert for incoming calls or messages, yearning for absolute isolation, being far from ready to deal with the aftermath.

But what if Harvey has called her?

She wanted to give him some time to retrospect and make up his mind about her proposal, which this kiss sure as hell was, but if the response was in any way negative, she definitely didn't have the strength to cope with that.

But, eventually it would come down to this.

And if it would, it was certainly better to hear it when her body was filled with almost an entire bottle of wine.

Donna retrieves the cell phone, quickly noticing that she had no incoming calls in the past hours.

Ok then.

Drowning the last drops of wine, her thumb automatically performs some moves and then hovers over Harvey's number.

* * *

Stephen, or what his friends and basically everybody else called him, Steve, once again had the misfortune to get signed up for the late night shift of the 'Carbone'.

Not that the place was usually filled with guests at this late hour on this day of the week, but today it was just 3 tables that needed his waitering skills, and he couldn't expect more than the minimum amount of tips from neither of them.

Far away from having the potential of being a very productive night for him, the bill he just received from his realtor due next week burning a hole in his pocket, he roams the almost empty premises of his working place, checking if everyone's water glass was still filled, every plate not yet empty, every customer satisfied and not in need of his immediate attention.

The first table on his routine was occupied by an elderly couple, clearly celebrating some kind of anniversary, ordering just a glass of the cheapest wine on their menu each, nipping on it through the entire special offer of the week 3 course menu, also being pretty moderate in the price range.

The lack of conversation between them also gave Steve a hint they weren't really enjoying the company of themselves or this festivity.

So whatever Steve would do at this point or not, he knew that the tips here surely would match exactly 10 percent.

The next table was taken by a young couple, more likely in their early twenties, hardly old enough to order the two bottles of Champagne which by now they emptied, but Steve was positive that Dan, the owner, checked their I.D.'s himself before serving it to them.

They were already here when he arrived to start his shift, and he estimated that they would stay to the very end of it as well.

Ordering mostly from the starters, along with some oysters and then jumping right to creme brulee, Steve was hoping that the not so handsome young man did not yet totally blew his budget for tonight in the attempt of trying to seduce this pretty brunette, obviously being out of his league, with extravagant food.

If he would get lucky, then so would Steve.

And even if he wouldn't be so lucky but would just find it out later, at least here Steve knew that he could cash in big time.

For the sole purpose of pretending to be the man, this desperate individual would leave a huge tip to impress the lady by his side if not with his looks, but at least with the depths of his wallet.

Good for Steve.

Not so good for this guy.

By experience he could already tell that even with all the oysters and creme brulees of the entire France, this young lad wasn't bearing a chance to score with this very attractive, but also very uninterested looking female specimen.

And then there was the last table.

The blonde was sitting there, sipping on her Chardonnay, entirely alone although the reservation said 'For two', for almost an hour by now.

Not that Steve hasn't seen his fair share of this pitiful scene before in his 10 year career as a waiter, but most definitely never with a woman of her caliber.

She also seemed quite familiar.

She probably wasn't here the first time around.

Wasn't it just couple of days ago?

With this Specter character?

Man, this one seriously wasn't saving his money, neither on the high priced dishes, nor the wines, nor the tips.

He was famous among the waiters, almost a legend, or for some, a myth.

It was told that if you had the luck to share your shift with his dining procedure, you would go home an almost wealthy man.

Only once Steve was lucky enough to cater to his table, and he went home with 200$ of tips.

Last time though, when Mr. Specter was dining here with this blonde, Steve wasn't so lucky.

Andrew had their table covered.

But Andrew wasn't here today.

Steve grabs a water carafe and a bread basket filled with freshly baked baguette along with some sea salt butter and approaches the blonde's table.

"Good evening Madam, how can I be of your service? Would you like to hear the specialties our chef has to offer tonight? Or maybe I could fetch you another glass of this exquisite Chardonnay?"

Her british accent sweeps him of his feet as she answers.

"Yes thank you, another Chardonnay would be quite welcome."

"Of course Madam. Right away."

He places the bread basket and butter on the table, refills her water glass, and runs off to fulfill her order.

She really was gorgeous.

That accent.

That face.

Mr. Specter was a complete idiot.

He finds himself in a sudden hurry, feeling the urge to please her, pouring more than the usual amount of oz into her glass as Jeremy, their bartender, wasn't around, most likely taking a cigarette break as he did every 20 minutes.

When he reaches her table, balancing the quite full glass more or less elegantly, he observes her playing with her cell phone.

"Your Chardonnay, Madam. Would you like to order something?"

"No thank you, I'd rather wait a little. I'm still expecting someone."

"Of course Madam. I'm sure he's on his way."

Steve almost bit his tongue off, but it was already too late.

The words slipped through his mouth, and there was nothing he could do now.

The blonde's eyes widen in astonishment, but then an amused smile plays around her lips.

"Well, there's only one way to find that out, isn't there?"

She nips on the cool Chardonnay before once again picking up her cell phone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Donna? Jesus, Harvey, what… what the hell is going on? You… you look, pardon my french but you look like absolute shit, Harvey. What happened? Why should Donna be calling you? Why are you in her office in the middle of the night? And why don't you answer your goddamn phone? This ringtone is making me lose it!"

Despite Louis' irritated tone, Harvey tries to answer in a more calm manner, letting only a resentful sigh slip his lips beforehand.

"It's complicated, Louis."

"What do you mean it's complicated? What is complicated?"

Harvey only shakes his head, disinclined or simply incapable to respond in a more appropriate way, circling around the remaining Scotch on the bottom of the glass, appearing almost hypnotized by the consistent movement.

"Oh oh oh Harvey, no no no... please tell me you didn't… Just tell me you didn't... Donna?"

"Louis, I…"

Louis face contorts into a grimace of fury while he pierces Harvey with eyes like glowing ember.

"Goddamnit Harvey, what did you do to Donna? If she's leaving the firm because of you I'm just gonna…"

"Nothing Louis, I did absolutely nothing to Donna!"

Harvey had to scream to abort Louis' tirade, straining his already Scotch sore voice, now having to soothe it with more Scotch again.

Yes, he did absolutely nothing to Donna, right?

Nothing whatsoever.

On the other hand, what did she do to him?

She fucking kissed him.

He was in a relationship with Paula.

Donna exactly knows that.

She also knows about his mother.

Donna knows everything.

Or so she loves to claim.

So she also should have exactly known what she has forced upon him with this…

This…

Well, ok, kiss.

God.

And now he's afraid to answer his phone.

He doesn't know how to explain this to Paula.

Or whether or not he should tell her at all.

If he should just forget it ever happened and go on, somehow come to terms with Donna, tell her he's sorry, but he just doesn't feel the same for her and that he's happy with Paula.

She will understand, right?

And it's the truth too, right?

He is happy with Paula.

He is not in love with Donna.

And nothing happened.

Right?

Harvey refills his glass once more with 4 fingers of Scotch and drowns it immediately.

What a fucking mess.

"Harvey, what happened for god's sake?!"

"Nothing happened, Louis. Nothing."

* * *

Harvey's decisive inflection doesn't take the wind out of Louis' sails.

Louis clutches his fingers into fists, his eyes flinching to the side, his complexion shifting to a ruby shade.

"Hmm, ok Harvey. So nothing happened? Then just answer your goddamn phone."

"I will, if you'd give me some fucking privacy here Louis!"

"Fine!"

Louis storms out of Donna's office, Harvey's response to his attempt to be a good friend and partner nagging on his aching heart.

He will have to call Dr. Lipschitz about this, as anger rushes through his veins like an infuriated beast infected with rabies.

Approaching the elevator, pulling out his cell phone and navigating his thumb towards the number of Dr. Lipschitz, he gets a grasp of what Dr. Lipschitz will most likely tell him.

He didn't spend an entire fortune and half his waking hours on and with his psychiatrist to not have at least learned one thing or two.

He knew Dr. Lipschitz would tell him to go back and not leave Harvey until he finally opened up.

Like Dr. Lipschitz did not leave Louis, no matter how much he yelled at him, not even when he called him a nazi.

Of course Dr. Lipschitz was more than abundantly rewarded for his patience, but Louis was Harvey's friend.

And Harvey's friendship was worth more than his weight in gold.

Harvey needed him.

Something was going on.

Something involving Donna.

And Dr. Agard.

Harvey could deny it to his last waking moment on this face of the earth, but Louis would dig right through all of the 9 levels of Dante's inferno to come to the bottom of it.

Louis had his own emotional baggage to carry, that was for sure.

First, there was Sheila.

A goddess, on whose incarnated altar he prayed upon until his knees bled.

Literally.

And in the biblical sense.

But then he lost his faith because she did not want to procreate their cupid struck match and produce babies with him.

And then there came Tara.

An angel sent directly up from heaven above.

Just that she wasn't his angel, pregnant, but not with his baby.

And he lost her.

She wasn't his soulmate though, she wasn't his goddess.

Sheila was.

Now someone else prayed upon her altar, and he was lucky enough to get one last opportunity to experience this divine intervention.

He just spoke to Donna about it, pouring out his soul to her, and he could see she was deeply moved by his fate.

Wait.

Donna surely cared for her friends, but weren't her tearing up eyes a little bit too much even for the most sympathetic friend of all times?

Of course Louis' fate was tragic, and if it would be an opera it probably would drive people into suicide, but Donna?

Wait.

Now Harvey?

Somehow Donna?

Wait, what?

"Oh no. No no no no."

Louis instantly turns around and rushes down the hallway to Donna's office, just to catch Harvey speaking into his phone, his timbre a deep bass, spreaded with throughout vibrato.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

"It's me who must be sorry, Harvey, not you, and trust me, if I would have had any idea that Van Dyke would come after you and the firm, I would have done everything in my power to stop that son of a bitch in the first place. "

"I know Jessica. Still, thank you for the warning."

"Of course Harvey. I called you the second I heard about it. I'm aware of the fact that I'm no longer in the position to give you any advice as managing partner, but you should get everybody on board tonight. By tomorrow morning, Van Dyke will be prepared to strike you hard, so you must come up with a strategy how to crush every goddamn bone in that asshole's body to immobilize him before that, and judging by the late hour, you do not have much time left."

"I won't let this dick Van Dyke take over our firm, Jessica. We will win this."

"I better hope so, Harvey. I didn't fight for so long to build up this firm and then leave it to you just so Van Dyke can grab it the second I'm out of the picture."

"Thank you Jessica. Now excuse me, I have some work to do."

"Get him, Harvey."

Harvey hangs up, his head spinning now not only from the Scotch he so recklessly consumed but also from the abstruse news he just received.

Staring at the screen, showing him that his mailbox had only one new message left in storage for him, he decides to call Louis first.

As accordingly to the beeping of the call a cell phone starts to ring behind him, he can't help but to jump up in his chair before turning his head into the direction of the source, eyeballing Louis who is trying to hide behind a glass door, a really horrendously futile pursuit.

"Harvey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just came back because I think I know what happened with you and D…"

Harvey sharply interrupts him.

"Louis, now is not the time for that. We have a serious problem. Jessica just called. Van Dyke is planning to come after the firm as Jessica got disbarred and can no longer be a named partner at Pearson Specter Litt."

"But how…"

"Van Dyke found a loophole, Louis. When Jessica and Hardman took over from Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke they signed a clause in the contract, forbidding any of them to come after our clients or the firm itself."

"But Harvey, that's excellent news, so what's the problem? Van Dyke can't come after us, the contract is binding, we're in the clear!"

"No Louis, we are not. As I just said, there was a loophole. And now Van Dyke can come after us and has legal ground to do so."

Louis' face runs through every shade of grey before stopping at an ashen pale nuance.

"But what loophole? What the hell are you talking about?"

"None of the people who signed that contract are named partners anymore, Louis."

"Oh my god, Harvey. That means because Jessica was disbarred in New York he can just…"

Harvey's grim expression adds even more menace to the following conclusion.

"Yes, Louis. He can just claim the place his own."

* * *

"Mike."

"Hmm."

"Mike, wake up."

"Hmmm."

"Mike!"

Rachel punches his left shoulder, provoking only another grunt, before she shakes him to a state he could at least respond with "Rachel?"

"Mike, your cell phone is ringing."

"What?"

"Your phone is ringing! Who has the nerves to call you at 1am?"

"I seriously don't know. Sorry Rach, go back to sleep. I'll handle it."

Mike untangles the sheets caught up between his legs, rolls to the edge and leaves the warmth of his bedside behind to get rid of this sadistic caller.

His vision still slightly blurred by the deep slumber he was in until the ungentle waking, his eyes need some seconds to focus on the caller I.D. before the letters form the word HARVEY.

"What the fuck…" he murmurs, getting up from the bed and moving his stiff body towards the living room, answering the call after closing the door to the bedroom to allow Rachel some well deserved rest.

Not having to control his loudness level anymore, Mike's voice goes up to full blast, with the agenda to severely damage Harvey's eardrum, or, if this endeavor proved to be fruitless, then at the very least leave him with tinnitus for the rest of his miserable life.

"Harvey, what the fuck? Do you know what time it is?"

"Ahh! Jesus, Mike!"

This vocal utterance as a clear indication of physical pain flashes up a satisfied grin upon Mike's face.

"So what's up, midnight cowboy? Got drunk and need a designated driver? Or did you get into a bar fight and need me to be the Butch to your Sundance?"

"What? Mike, listen to me. This is serious."

The absolute absence of humor or wit in his tone alarms Mike even more than his choice of words, sobering him up from his just partly awake state.

"Ok Harvey, what is it?"

"You have to get your ass down to the office, Mike. It can't wait til tomorrow. I will explain it to you when you're here. Just let me tell you that shit seriously hit the fan."

"Are you insane? It's the middle of the fucking night Harvey! What the hell happened that can't wait until the fucking sun rises?"

"We don't have time for you to finish your beauty sleep Mike, just get the fuck over here! Now!"

* * *

Harvey disconnects the call, the first nagging notion of a severe headache pounding underneath his temples.

The sensation increases its unnerving intensity as he contemplates about who to call next in line.

Donna.

He knows she has to be here, she needed to be here and she also deserved it.

She had a seat at the table after all.

"Louis, can you get me a coffee and while you're at it, think about if we should involve Alex in this. I'd say he might be a huge asset for our case, but if you have any concerns, well, just think about it while you fix us some coffee. We will all need it, and I know you make the best damn espresso in this firm. It's gonna be a long hell of a night."

Louis, already packed with dozens of papers he just retrieved from the file room, visibly agitated by the turn of events, but also obviously charmed by Harvey's compliment, instantly drops the papers and runs off to the office kitchen.

Ok, that leaves Harvey exactly 5 minutes to deal with this in private.

Paula.

Donna.

Despite the fact that he has to sober up, he quickly drowns a finger of Scotch, preparing himself for the upcoming call he has to make.

Now he has to be resourceful.

Paula would already be indignant about the skipped date and the lack of any sort of notification to inform her about that.

That means a lot of explaining and a talk that will indefinitely stretch the 5 minute time line.

Now Donna on the other hand, has to be called.

She would understand what's at stake here.

She would leave all personal differences aside and help out.

Or so he hoped.

His eyes close shut as his thumb finally touches her number, initiating the call.

* * *

An astonished "Holy shit!" tumbles out of her mouth as the phone starts to vibrate theatrically in her hand, just seconds before she was about to call Harvey herself.

The caller I.D. said Harvey.

Oh my god.

She almost drops the cell phone, her fingers suddenly too clumsy to perform the movement to answer the call.

Her eyes pin the remains of wine in the bottle, her hands not that clumsy to be unable to maneuver this final reinforcement into her body.

One last deep breath, and then her thumb sweeps to the right.

She presses the phone against her ear, first suspicious that the connection broke off because she hears nothing but daunting silence.

And then, a sharp inhale.

Ok. Here it comes.

"Donna."

Followed by an awkwardly long pause.

After what felt like an eternity, Donna can't take the suspension anymore, her heart assaulting the cage of her rips containing it.

"Yes Harvey."

Another pause, another inhale.

Her heart skips a beat as she can imagine to what outcome this stagnant perversion of a conversation will lead to.

"Donna, look. Ok, so, it's like this, we have an emergency here at the firm, and we need you here. Louis is here and Mike is on his way, maybe Alex will join us later…"

"What?"

Donna can't believe he has the nerve to pull this shit on her after she made her position more than perfectly clear.

About to lose her temper, her voice gets to a bitchy pitch.

"Harvey, what is this? Is this some sort of joke?"

"No, it's not Donna. This is serious. I can't tell you all the details right now, but Van Dyke is about to make a move for a hostile takeover, and we need all hands on deck right now. And I mean, now. In the morning it might be too late to stop this before it gets out of hand. I understand it's past midnight, and you..."

"Harvey."

Her tone inclining her problem with that entirely wasn't about the late hour.

"Donna, please."

Frustration consumes her insides as if she would be dipped head down into a barrel filled with an acidic, oily liquid.

Once again she just couldn't say no to Harvey.

"Ok Harvey, I'll be there."

Just as always.


	4. Chapter 4

Donna narrows her eyes to a split, and lets the cell phone slide out of her hand into her lap.

Wow, ok.

This was entirely not the scenario she imagined to follow after she kissed Harvey.

And most certainly she did not see it coming that she has to rush down to the firm in the middle of the night after a whole bottle of ruby red wine.

Not to mention having to face Harvey so soon and without any resolution.

She was simply not ready for that.

But there was no way around it.

Pearson Specter Litt was in jeopardy, and she needed to go and help out as much as she could.

Which meant that she had to get dressed and perform some quick magic with her appearance to be at least presentable to some degree.

But first she needed to sober up a little by moving her butt to the kitchen, filling and emptying a glass of water in one sip along with some aspirin.

Better.

Now closet.

She pulls out tight blue Jeans and a thick, beige, low cut Cashmere pullover, planning of combining it with this pair of suede ankle boots she just recently purchased, matching the colour.

It was not extremely extravagant, but for approximately 2 o'clock in the morning it would rather do the job.

After that, she inspects her by now very demolished makeup.

No point in trying to fix this mess.

Aggressively removing the remains of mascara with soap and ice cold water, that she hoped would also assist in the attempt to enhance her intoxicated state to a more work appropriate level, her mind digresses once again to Harvey.

If he would mention what happened between them with even one single word.

Or if he would just completely ignore it.

She tipped on the ladder.

In the end, it was still Harvey.

Yes, he might appear as a homo sapiens, at least most of times, but he was more or less a neanderthal when it came to his feelings, especially when it was about articulating them or acknowledging their sheer existence.

Swiftly applying some light makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes along with some mascara, brushing the tangled strands of hair, topping it off with a dash of Opium by Yves Saint Laurent, Donna now feels more equipped for the joint venture ahead.

* * *

Needless to say, Harvey was in his element.

Swimming in the files like the meanest shark in the pool, regardless of the Scotch swashing around in his stomach, constructing strategies just to bulldoze them moments later for the sake of creating more space for better ideas to pop up in his mind.

No matter how much of an explicit threat Van Dykeˋs endeavour to take over Pearson Specter Litt appeared to be, first of all, he could do something about it.

Second of all, it took his mind off of the more ambiguous problems.

Both issues he did not expect, and neither of them would be an easy fix, but one seemed definitely to be corresponding far better with his repertoire than the other.

And that's the one he would concentrate on, for now.

Sipping the strong aromatic espresso Louis so kindly provided for him, enjoying the luscious combination of caffeine and adrenaline pumping through his veins, just about to open another file that could have the potential to be relevant for their case, Harvey hears damped footsteps approaching his office.

Losing track of the paragraph he was studying, his forehead wrinkles in anticipation and anxiety.

As much as Donna would be of assistance, she would also be a constant reminder of the other thing rustling in the back of his head like static white noise.

The reflexive commissure of his lips dissolves in an instant as he sees Mike emerging around the corner.

"Ok Harvey, Iˋm here. Can you fucking tell me what the hell is going on?"

Instead of answering his question, Harvey picks up a file right next to him and shoves it to the other side of the table, approximately in Mike's direction.

"Take a look for yourself, Hotshot."

* * *

"Holy shit, Harvey, we seriously have a problem!"

Harvey shrugs, rolling his eyes in the same momentum, implying the 'What did I tell you, kid?', with the kid also stating the obvious.

"Van Dyke will come through with this in the morning? Ok, what do we have so far? Is there even anything we can do about this? I mean, his claim is legit, Harvey."

"It doesn't matter if his claim is legit or not, we must find something to stop that son of a bitch. And we must find it now."

"So how far are you? Do you have anything yet?"

"Louis digged out one precedent that might or might not come in handy in the long run, but nothing yet that would help us to prevent this asshole from taking any legal action in the first place."

"Then I'd suggest we dig deeper."

"Why do you think I needed you here? Go do your magic, eidetic Harry Potter."

"I would prefer Dumbledore, or Gandalf."

"Just be thankful I didn't say Hermione. Now grab that pile over here and work through it. Louis should be back from the file room pretty soon, so we better get to it before we suffocate in Manila."

Mike grabs the first file from the nearest pile and takes a seat in one of the chairs, but not without perceiving the scent of Scotch hovering in the air surrounding Harvey, just insufficiently covered up by the smell of the dark roasted Arabica bean extract.

Sniffing theatrically while waving his hand in front of his nose area and exclaiming a disgusted "Phew!" Mike only now notices Harvey's overall tremendously bad condition.

His eyes bloodshot, the dark shadows under them having an almost purple tone, his normally flawless suit showing the first signs of wrinkles in the fabric, and the expression lurking behind his focused stare agitated and restless,.

Something was off.

It could be this disaster that they were desperately trying to solve on such short notice before it was too late to be solved at all, but Harvey being loaded to the point his whole office had a stench of alcohol, in the middle of the week, that was new.

That was alarming.

"Harvey, have you been drinking? And by drinking, I mean like soaking yourself in some brand of Scotch? You smell like an entire bar. Or even more like a Scotch distillery."

An annoyed sharp exhale later, Harvey looks up from the file he was reading, trying to fixate Mike's stare.

"What the fuck are you implying here? That I'm drunk? That I can't handle my liquor? Let me tell you something, Hermione, first of all, if you really wanna know, yes, I had one or two glasses before I heard the news about Van Dyke. But I'm perfectly fine, Mike, thank you. If you have any more concerns about my alcohol consumption, go to a support group. Just don't ever fucking dare to bother me with this crap again."

"Jesus Harvey, sorry I even asked. You are perfectly fine."

Not that Mike's intonation had anything else to offer than pure sarcasm, followed by another muttered "Jesus."

"Ok, you know what, Mike, how about you just shut the fuck up and do your job for a change? And this time, try not to ruin this firm, alright?"

"Fine!"

"Good."

Now it's Mike's turn to roll his eyes, primarily out of anger and annoyance, garnished with a pinch of irritation.

As Harvey's gaze pierces the paper in front of him instead of Mike, so does he.

It wouldn't help anyone to stir up a fight right now, not with this much at stake.

The tension in the room did not fully dissolve into thin air as Louis enters the room, balancing another package of files.

"Oh Mike, good you're here! Give me a hand will you?"

Louis is eyeballing the shaky structure stacked up to his chin, his face a deep crimson shade as the struggle to avoid spreading the Manila files all over the floor becomes more and more strenuous.

Mike jumps up right in time, already catching some loose papers floating through the office, following their gravity determined path.

"Ok, Louis, good you're here. I need you to look at something. I think this might be exactly what we need. Just take a look at it and tell me what you think, but I think this…"

Harvey's face freezes in the middle of the sentence, his eyes suddenly focusing on something behind Mike's shoulder instead.

"Yes Harvey, what? Wait, I just put this down, god, Mike now take this shit, here, ok, so what is it?"

Harvey doesn't respond, his features an unadorned mask of absolute stupefaction.

Mike and Louis share a concerned look, before the husky voice spiced with a bitter undertone behind them demystifies the situation.

"Well, Harvey, I'm here. Tell me what to do."

* * *

Harvey's blood pressure drops so abruptly that he feels his fingers tingling by the sudden absence of blood flow, not being sufficiently provided with the so much needed nutrition.

The lack of oxygen nourishment in his brain as a concrete consequence of that is additionally provoking a nauseating episode, followed by an increased heart rate and an unbearable density in his chest.

Oh god.

Not now.

His focus blurs on the edges, but still remains painfully sharp in the direct line between them.

He could only grasp Donna's hazel brown eyes, bitterness pouring out of them, turning their radiant rich and warm colorite into the desolate tincture of fallow earth.

He wants to open his mouth and at least try to mumble a "Donna.".

But his lips just remain numb as the rest of him.

Benefited by the silence in the room, he can practically hear his heart crack a little.

Fortunately Louis wasn't so biased.

* * *

"Oh Donna, great you could make it! We really need your skills right now! I have like a dozen files that need your fine tuning and expertise, I mean, I guess Harvey already told you that Van Dyke is coming for us, right? So, wait, here they are, wait, ok, no that's not the one."

Even the eager Louis fumbling around in the pile of files could not remediate the obscure veil clouding the atmosphere in the room ever since Harvey saw Donna.

Now Mike knew for sure something was going on, and it was far more malignant than anything Van Dyke had in store for them.

As Louis handed Donna half a dozen files, with which she retreated herself into the most far away corner of Harvey's office, instantly opening the first one,

Mike can't help but to observe the wrenched glimpse Harvey throws at Donna, before turning his attention back to the file placed in front of him.

"Well, ok then, let's get to work!"

Louis' eyes shift rapidly between Harvey and Donna, as he puts up a fake smile to the foul play and grabs a file of his own, but not before throwing a long intensive and urgent stare at Mike, rising his eyebrows all the way up his forehead, cluelessly shrugging his shoulders in the meanwhile.

Mike, in reply, twists his features to a confused frown, shaking his head nearly unnoticeably.

The ambience in the room drops to arctic temperatures, driving Mike close to the quite illogical assumption that his breath should be condensing in this cold, unfriendly environment.

In the corners of his sight, he catches Louis trying to get his attention by alternatingly pointing his head towards Donna's and then Harvey's direction, before pointing it towards the door of the office.

Besides the fact that Louis' behaviour was not nearly as subtle as he obviously intended it to be, Mike still got the hidden message.

In an instant he had a plan figured out.

Now all that was left for it to work out was Louis' cooperation.

With the pursuit to make Louis understand that he will handle this, expressed by a quick nod and rising up the index finger, ensuring that Louis is fully aware of the conspiratorial gestures, Mike yawns remarkably loud, stretching his arms.

"Wow, I must say these midnight adventures take their toll with age! I definitely need some coffee. Be right back!"

Before anyone, and especially Harvey, could protest, Mike rushes out of the office, heading towards the kitchen down the hall, hoping that Louis would play along.

* * *

In a more or less seemingly reasonable reaction time span, Louis gets up from his chair.

"Mike! Wait! Oh no! I better go get us all some coffee myself before this imbecile with two left hands manipulates the machine to a point the coffee tastes like racoon piss for the next two months!"

Earning a critical look from Harvey followed by a murmured "Fucking unbelievable.",

Louis leaves the office behind and hurries through the hallway, the anticipation of finally being in the position to talk to someone about the strange behaviour of Donna and Harvey and sharing his theory about that increasing his pace to the verge of a sprint.

Given his ill trained physical condition, Louis already breathes fitfully as he reaches the imaginary finish line, his hands sweaty and therefore slippery, having slight difficulties to handle the doorknob mechanism that separates the kitchen from the rest of the world.

All of a sudden the door opens, revealing Mike's inquiring and intrigued eyes peeking behind it.


	5. Chapter 5

The infrequent pins and needles crawl up the back of her spine, ultimately reaching her neck to accumulate in the area of her cheeks, resuming into a burning sensation.

They were alone.

It might not be for long, but the opportunity simply presented itself.

Donna's stomach drops immediately by only mildly considering the idea of speaking up now.

Or hear what Harvey most likely would have to say.

It was hard enough to walk through that goddamn glass door, observing how Harvey's face changed from being professional and determined to absolutely lost as soon as he saw her.

He looked like a fish stranded on the beach, gasping for oxygen but ending up suffocating in the concentrated air, wishing himself back into the deep waters to be able to breathe again.

She wasn't even aware of whatever she pretended to be reading beforehand, the letters dancing Chachacha all over the page.

She knew she had to concentrate and focus, the task ahead was more than challenging, but as a matter of fact she clearly couldn't.

Although staring at the file as if her life would depend on it, which in a way it even did, she was incapable to stop thinking about the sensible skin of his neck rubbing against the fabric of his almost blinding white shirt, smelling like him, mixed with the vanishing odour of the Emporio Armani aftershave she used to buy him for christmas.

Not that it was as expensive as the rest of his aftershave collection, but she always liked it on him.

Straightforward and intense, and truly distinctive for this specific person.

Her very own specific person.

She nibbles on her under lip, removing the remains of her lipstick along with it, to prevent herself from looking up and looking at him.

If she would catch him returning her gaze, she would probably lose her shit all over again.

The tiny hairs on her arms straighten up by the image of her walking across his office and just kiss him once more as a result of their eyes connecting, feeling their lips intertwine.

Fuck.

And if he wouldn't seek her eyes, well, then she would probably still walk up to him, all smug sitting behind his desk, and just slap him instead.

Leaving it all behind forever.

God, this wine.

Her heart misses multiple beats as she hears him clear his throat.

* * *

Mike opens the door to the kitchen after hearing some scratching sounds on the outside, equipped with a coffee making device he has no idea what purpose it serves, solely for the masquerade providing the illusion that he is actually really about to make coffee and the person behind that door isn't Louis.

Although he really hopes it's Louis, because he is not entirely sure if this whatever the hell he is holding is even there to produce coffee with.

Mike is lucky because as soon as he takes a glimpse behind the door, he sees Louis' frantic eyes.

"Jesus Mike! What are you doing with the orange peeler in your hand? Put that thing down or you will hurt somebody! And now let me enter for god's sake!"

In an almost violent manner Louis pushes Mike aside to reach the isolated territory, closing the door right behind him.

"Ok Mike, so now listen, here's what I think is going on…"

Mike gets rid of the apparently dangerous orange peeler as instructed, and then grabs Louis by both shoulders, significantly rattling on them to bring that man back to his senses.

"Louis, first of all, calm the fuck down and take a deep breath! Your face is all red and everything, so please don't you have another heart attack on me right here? What the hell is so important it couldn't wait until we solve this Van Dyke problem?"

Louis' face colour doesn't do anything to prove Mike wrong, instead it provides concrete evidence to his concerts by escalating to magenta.

"Mike, listen, I think Donna and Harvey…"

"Wait, what? She told you about our conversation? Oh my god, Louis, please tell me you didn't... what the hell did you say to her? What did you say to Harvey? Wait no. I don't even wanna know. No wonder they are acting weird as hell. Holy shit."

Louis' eyebrows rise up and his chin goes down as if someone would have activated a hidden string connecting both of these facial traits.

"What conversation? What on earth are you babbling about? You talked to Donna?"

Mike rubs the back of his nose, forcing his eyes to shut, preventing him of losing his temper and patience.

"Of course I talked to Donna, isn't it obvious? I mean, Rachel told me one thing or two, and I thought it's best to intervene as long as there might be a chance! But Donna said she has no interest to be with Harvey, and I could tell she doesn't really mean it as well. And then I tried to talk to Harvey, but he reacted, well, let's just use the word hostile although it was even sort of aggressive, but anyway, I mean, if people are too blind to see what's good for them, you just can't..."

Louis' voice goes one or two, or even three octaves up, putting Pavarotti to shame.

"Oh my god, Mike! I basically told Donna the exact same thing! I mean, not really, I just told her about Sheila and that it breaks my heart and that I should have been smarter than letting the love of my life marry someone else, oh yes, by the way, you don't even know that, right? Well, Sheila called me a couple of days ago, asking me to make sweet sweet love to her before…"

"What? Louis, Sheila is getting married? I'm so sorry! I always thought the two of you would actually end up together. And wait, what? She called you to what?"

"To make sweet, dirty, nasty, unspeakable love to her. And I did. And it was like we've never been apart. But I failed to tell her that she is the love of my life and now she will marry this cornichon in some days and I'm...I'm lost without her, Mike. I can't forgive myself to not have said anything before it was too late."

Mike's thumb shoves over his under lip, then striking his chin.

"You could still say something, I mean, it's not too late I think. She might, after all, be your soulmate, Louis."

Louis' breathing pattern decelerates, the words coming out of his mouth devoured by passion.

"I know she is, oh my god, she is my soulmate, and I will wither like a rose without water and dung supply and it all will be forsaken and…"

Mike intercepts before it gets far too poetical for him to handle.

"I get the picture, Louis, trust me. If I would lose Rachel… I know how you feel. That's why I tried to talk to Donna. Harvey is too stubborn to realize what's going on, but Donna isn't. Or so I thought."

This declaration complies Louis to pick up the lost track.

"But anyway, so I told Donna about Sheila and how I felt, and the next thing I know, I'm passing by Donna's office and I see Harvey standing there, with an almost empty bottle of Scotch, drowning the liquor like there's no tomorrow. First I thought it's about Jessica, but then he told me it's personal, so I asked if it's about Dr. Agard, I mean Paula, and his phone kept ringing and… well, let's just say I got something has happened and then…"

Having to seek for a support, Mike leans on the nearest kitchen counter with both hands.

"Louis, what the hell are you saying? That something happened? That Donna…"

"I don't know but I mean, you saw the look on Harvey's face when Donna arrived at the office? I saw his face when he was forced to pronounce her name, and all I can guarantee you, something happened between them. It can't be pure coincidence, Mike!"

"I doubt that it's coincidence too."

Shaking his head, Mike turns to Louis, indulged by the undeniable concern.

"What do you think is going on between them, Louis? What happened?"

* * *

Harvey simply couldn't bare to see her like this.

Or to see her at all.

Yes, Van Dyke was coming for them.

Yes, he had at least two dozen files he had to go through, merely to exclude them as valid for their case, but all he could detect was her presence.

Her perfume lingering in the air, occupying the whole room with its exotic fragrance, and the serenity that came along with it.

His eyes leave the paragraphs for a split second to move to her direction, and then it hits him.

He already saw it when she emerged at the entrance to his office, but now, her so devotedly staring into these files, strikes another sensible nerve in him connected right to his heart.

In the end, no matter what, she was still Donna.

She knew him, better than anybody, better than Paula.

And she was his best friend.

With ups, downs and in betweens.

He could be himself around her.

Or, more precisely, he could be himself only around her.

The pain he saw flickering in her eyes, the pain he caused upon her, it was worse than anything else he ever experienced.

Losing this connection they shared, this… whatever, he couldn't.

He simply could not lose her.

Not for the life of him.

Whenever he thought he could live a life without her in it, in a nanosecond he would prove himself wrong.

Or his body would.

It didn't really matter for him, to what extent she would be in his life, but there was no way around it, she was supposed to be there.

Now, Paula…

He was not able to think of Paula.

Not now.

But Donna was right here.

And by the way she was chewing her lip, it told him exactly that she was very uncomfortable being around him right this moment in time and space.

Which again he forced upon her.

He knew only one thing that could help with that.

He had plenty of those tonight and it didn't really help with anything, but there was no reason not to try once more.

* * *

"Want a drink?"

Her eyes slowly wander off the file and up to meet his.

He shows off a crooked grin upon his face, only insufficiently reminding her of the once upon a time charming boyish one he used to have around her.

And he looks as destroyed as she feels.

"Well, I think we both need one, and until the two boy scouts are back…"

"Yes, thank you."

Donna's eager tone provokes an earnest smile on Harvey's side, before Harvey pulls out a bottle of Macallan 18 hidden under his desk, along with two tumblers, pouring them two fingers each, all of it without breaking eye contact with her.

As she still sits in the other end of the room, the gentleman he sometimes is, Harvey gets up from his chair and puts the spirits on top of the files occupying the small table in front of Donna, before tipping his tumbler against hers, the echo of the collision of glass against glass filling the silence surrounding them.

"Well, here's to it."

Harvey forces the whole drink down his throat, so Donna follows his lead.

She would have prefered to have the mellow taste of the Scotch lingering on her tongue for a longer while, without the sharpness following on that extended and rather quick consumption.

"I think I need another one."

She rises the empty glass in her hand, to make sure he gets her absolutely not subtle hint.

"Guess what, me too. And I had plenty before tonight."

The smirk emerging on his face balms her soul, forcing up an amused smile.

"Then just keep it running, boy. Im in."

* * *

"I think I should call Rachel."

After the long pause in their conversation, filled up by projecting possible scenarios of what actually went down between Donna and Harvey on the screen of their mental cinema, Mike's sudden interruption startles Louis.

"Why the hell would you call Rachel? What… oh. Of course. She's Donna's best friend and confidant and a woman and she will know what to do and what to ask and…"

"Yes, Louis, exactly that's why I'm gonna call her right now. And besides, she will be a lot more help in the file room than you are. She knows her way around there."

"Yes, yes, that's a good idea. I mean, we can't really ask them what happened, or can we?"

"No, we obviously can't."

Mike exhales the remaining air in his lungs in a loud pant, expressing his resentment regarding this whole debacle acoustically.

"Harvey...You know Harvey, Louis. There's no way in hell he will say one damn thing about this. And Donna...if Donna is going to talk to somebody, Rachel is our best shot to clear up this situation before it sabotages the entire firm."

Enthusiastically nodding, visually supporting Mike's clever suggestion, Louis starts to tamper around with the coffee machine.

"Ok Mike, I will make some coffee while you call Rachel. We've been gone far too long by now for the simple act of producing a decent caffeinated beverage!"

* * *

"Well, here's to it."

The sight of her, dressed in this cosy appearing pullover, exploiting half of her left shoulder and the freckles on it, brings up those banned memories of this other time he kissed each and every one of them.

Her lips merging with the edge of the glass filled with the honey coloured Scotch, reminds him of her lips merging with his barely a couple of hours ago, fulfilling the promise of the land of milk and honey beforehand.

And the feeling he had when they did, necessitates him to toss that amount of alcohol all at once down his throat without consideration.

It might have not been right.

But it felt like something he should have been doing for years by now.

"I think I need another one."

That was his Donna.

He feels like a ten ton chip is removed off his shoulder, resulting in an almost playful smile.

"Guess what, me too. And I had plenty before tonight."

"Then just keep it running, boy. Im in."

He could grasp the pain in her eyes disappearing, and with it the density in his chest.

He takes the tumbler off her hand, with their fingers slightly touching for longer than it would have been necessary, returning to his desk and pouring both of them another two fingers of Scotch, as he notices Donna getting up from her chair and moving to his position in the edge of his view.

He doesn't think about his mother, or Paula, or anything, as he turns around.

He only thinks about what feels right.


	6. Chapter 6

"Harvey..."

Harvey's head swiftly turns around to confront the source from which this hushed pronunciation of his name derived from.

Donna's fingertips strike over the back of his hand holding the Macallan only for a second, yet still provoking a series of electrifying sensations, tickling up and down his arm.

Their glances fuse with each other, tempting him to lose himself in the infinite of her hazel eyes, inducing him to lean slightly forward to eliminate the remaining space between them, until he gets aware of the alarmed expression painted upon her features.

"Harvey, now is not the time."

"I know, Donna, but…"

"No Harvey, I mean now is not the time for another drink. Mike and Louis are coming back. I think I heard them talking in the hallway."

Her eyes shift away from his, breaking the spell he was under.

While Donna returns to her interim workplace in the corner of his office, he corks up the Macallan and puts it under his desk, along with the tumblers, before a severe sigh leaves his lips.

"Then I guess 'Happy Hour' is over."

Not that the past hour, or the previous, has been a remotely happy one.

But the next few hours sure as hell wouldn't be.

* * *

Exchanging a concerned look followed by rising up their eyebrows almost simultaneously, Mike and Louis enter Harvey's office, equipped with the promised coffee.

"Well, there you go. Sorry we took so long, but Mike ruined the first batch as I prophesied, so I had to start all over again. Although he called Rachel, so at least he had something to do while I performed my magic. Ok, Donna, here's your cappuccino, I assumed you'll need some more espresso in it than usual so I made it a double. And for you, Harvey, espresso macchiato doppio, pure energy. I even put some sugar in it just in case you need another boost."

Louis distributes the beverages, receiving a concordant "Thank you, Louis." in return.

"Well, ok then. Enjoy! By the way Harvey, you wanted to show me something? Like, earlier?"

"Oh yes, that. Sorry, I just... It's been a long day."

Harvey fumbles around in the stack of files before he picks out a beige folder.

"Must be this one. I mean, I looked into it, and it seemed like something we can use against Van Dyke. It's one of his previous cases. And I can smell the stench of fishy on it about a mile away. It's not a good reputation that our firm was involved in such shady business, but if it helps to take Van Dyke out of the game, I don't give a shit. Take a look for yourself Louis. I was not one of the associates on the case, but you were. So you should know more about it than me."

Harvey hands the file over to Louis, who immediately snaps it open.

Louis' eyes widen while scanning the pages, his mouth performing the transition into a smirk.

"Oh my god, Harvey, I remember this case! This… I think we can use this against him. And I know exactly the man who will know all about it. You will not like it, but…"

"No Louis, I will not like it. No fucking way."

"But Harvey…"

Harvey's jaw line tenses up, the interaction between tendons, muscles and bones unequivocally showing his reluctance.

"No Louis. I know what you're thinking. We won't ask Hardman for help. Only over my dead body."

"Ok, Harvey, I get it, I don't want to see this devil's visage ever again in my life as well, this...this result of a succubus and Behemoth copulating, but I don't know if we can…"

"Then we will have to. Mike, you called Rachel, right?"

Mike, surprised by the turn of the conversation, instantly nods.

"Yes, I did. She'll be here soon."

"Good. Then we dig everything up that we have on this case, and we will find something."

"But Harvey…"

Harvey rises up from his chair, placing both of his hands on the desk in front of him, aggressively leaning forward to completely and utterly condemn the matter in question.

"No, Louis! No Hardman! This son of a bitch can rot in hell for all I care and I surely won't call him to help us out. I'm the managing partner and I say we will do it without him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand, Harvey. Jesus!"

"Good. Now let's get to work."

Before sinking back in his chair, Harvey gives Donna a sharp gaze, worried that she might also not be on his side on this one.

He clears his throat to get rid of the crudity in his tone that he just used and specifically reserved and designed for Louis' frequent tendencies for insubordination.

"Donna…"

"Yes Harvey?"

"Are you on board with this? No Hardman?"

"Harvey, you know exactly how I feel about this scumbag and I would rather walk barefoot on broken glass for a mile or even two than having to see this bastard's smug face, trust me. But if, and I say if as in a last resort kind of situation, if we can't do it by ourselves, then I guess we will have to bring him in. This is more important than our egos, Harvey, and you know it."

Harvey can't help but to realize that she was, as usual, about damn right, but the fact remained that she was not entirely backing him up.

The dissatisfaction about this development, adding some more sour drops to his already corroded guts, must have been written all over his face as Mike finds it inevitable to smooth the animosity between Harvey and Donna, and steps in.

"Why don't we just see what we can find for now and then discuss that later? There's no point in talking about whether to bring Hardman in or not at 2 in the morning anyway. So instead of doing that, I'm gonna go to the file room, and when Rachel gets here, tell her where to find me. I'll need her help around there, that's for sure."

Mike takes the last sip of his in the meanwhile only lukewarm coffee, putting the empty mug down at the nearest surface, being Harvey's already overloaded desk.

"Donna, why don't you come with me? You are a genius with the files, and me, well, not so much. Might have an eidetic memory, but the file system…"

"Thanks for the offer, Mike, but I think there's a more pressing matter my specific skillset is designed for. I know each and every secretary who used to work for that case and for Van Dyke and Hardman, and I think I should start writing emails. I'll join you when I'm done. Louis, can you give me that file please? Thank you."

"Oh my god, Donna, this is brilliant! Instead of using Hardman…"

"Yes, Louis, instead of using Hardman, we will use the people who worked for him and hated his guts but still know every single detail there is to know about that case. And will be much more willing to help us out than he would be. So yes, it is brilliant. They don't call me oh my god Donna for no reason, and neither did you."

* * *

Nursing on the so kindly served cappuccino, which by the way tasted excellent, with exactly the right amount of bitter combined with the creamy texture of milk foam caressing her tongue, Donna goes through the list of her contacts.

Now, was Lisa Delacroix the blonde one with a taste for cheap Bourbon, expensive shoes and bad boys or was it the other Lisa, with a preference to musicals and colourful scarfs?

Or god forbid, it might even be the one Lisa, short for Elisa, who she had a dispute with over a freaking blueberry muffin recipe, that did not resolve entirely peaceful, or without some blueberries ending up in someone's hair.

Let's just say, it hasn't been Donna's.

Yes, the good old days.

And it was indeed crucial to her task to find the right words for every specific one individually.

But as it have been more than 400 secretaries over the years she spend at Pearson Hardman, and later at Pearson Specter, followed shortly by Pearson Specter Litt, having three Lisas listed in her contacts without the last name being mentioned, and no clue who of them was named Delacroix, it was not a piece of cake.

Yes, she knew each and every one of them, but all 3 Lisas worked with Hardman and Van Dyke, and only one worked on that case they all were desperately gaining information about.

She didn't want to disappoint.

Especially not Harvey.

Speaking of Harvey…

She did not go over there to interrupt him pouring more Macallan for the both of them.

Her first intention was of an entirely different nature.

But it did not feel right.

All she could think about was the relief she felt by the seemingly substantial assumption that they still might go back, be the friends they always were, be easy with each other.

Because after he said he loved her, it simply stopped being easy for her.

It was like an open wound, and even if at some point it would not be bleeding, not attempting to kill her instantaneously any more, it would still leave a scar.

And a scar was by far no counterpart to the previously healthy, smooth skin.

It was damaged tissue, damaged goods, destroyed beyond repair, leaving a mark and leaving deficiencies behind after its occurrence.

It would never be the same again.

Or so she thought.

And then she saw the look on his face.

Yes, she had to know.

But knowing did not do her a favour.

In fact, it did just prove what she already suspected.

There was something between them, something more.

At least for her.

But after seeing Harvey's face, observing his eyes for this one spark she hoped for and feared at the same time, she got her answer.

And now she couldn't plainly erase that knowledge, or argue about its sheer existence, deleting it from her mind or her heart.

Fuck.

And to top that all off, she had to go through the personal files to specify who of the Lisa's on her list was the one in question.

Never again she would leave the last name out of her contact list.

What a mess.

And no time to dwell on it.

She had to join Mike down in the file room and find Lisa's file.

* * *

In a last and quite desperate attempt, Rachel tries to rub the half asleep state out of her eyes, while entering the elevator.

Not that she got any sleep after the call Mike received, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation through the closed door, separating the bedroom and the living room.

Mike must have be thinking the doors are thicker than they actually are, as they allowed her to listen in anyway, the words being admittedly damped but not entirely eradicated.

And then, Mike called her and ordered her to join their task force with the mission to stop Van Dyke.

And to talk to Donna about Harvey.

Honestly, she wasn't looking forward to neither of these requests, but apparently both were an equally immediate threat to the firm at this point and required her attendance.

* * *

Where the hell was Rachel?

Donna just entered the file room, heading for the H.R. department files straight after greeting him with a short "Hey, Mike."

Now would have been the perfect opportunity for Rachel to ask her about Harvey and what the hell happened or did not happen between them.

Or if something happened at all.

There was still the chance it all was only existing in Louis' and Mike's head.

Though normally being a quite decent reader of the human mind, the thought of confronting Donna with this issue made him feel more like the human equivalent to the elephant in the porcelain store, and about as equipped with the same reduced amount of emotional intelligence as Louis.

But this might be his only shot to catch her alone, and he just had to at least try to tickle out some information out of her.

"Donna, ehm, did you by any chance talked to Harvey about, well.."

That indeed was a poorly executed prelude, but the words kept on stumbling out of his mouth.

* * *

"Donna, ehm, did you by any chance talked to Harvey about, well...it might be just me, but it seems like there is something off between the two of you. Did something happen? I know it's not any of my business, but I just can tell that you act strange around each other."

Donna's hand hesitates in the middle of fetching the personal file of Lisa Delacroix, startled by the surprising ambush.

She takes a sharp inhale, providing her with the essentially needed oxygen along with a few seconds to get it back together before answering resolutely.

"No, I did not talk to Harvey about the two of us, if that's what you're asking."

Yes, it wasn't even a lie because she really did not talk to him about anything.

She just kissed him, fled the scene of her crime immediately after and as luck would have it, was stuck in the same room with him and with an audience that wasn't oblivious enough not to notice the tension between them.

Great, and now Mike felt the urge to confront her about it in the fucking file room at 3 a.m. and complicate this already delicate issue even more.

"Listen, Mike, I understand you are worried, and that's very sweet of you, but right now is not the time or the place to discuss this. Besides, there is nothing to discuss. We are all just tired and…Oh, hi there Rachel!"

"Hey, Rach, good you're here! Well, I gotta get back and show some of these cases to Harvey, and you guys keep looking."

Greeting his fiance with a kiss on the cheek, Mike grabs a stack of files rushes out of the room.

Oh god.

Donna knew exactly what was about to happen.

This was a setup.

Too tired to continue playing cat-and-mouse and seeing her friends perform a little dance around the subject, she decides to come clean.

It eventually would be exposed anyway, sooner or later, and she had to talk to someone to get it off her chest.

"Rachel, before you say anything, you should know that...that earlier tonight, I...I kissed Harvey."


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel's jaw drops down, too baffled by the revelation to be able to have any other, or any sort of more indistinct response.

"Ehm, what?"

Donna's eyes darken, her focus now on studying her shoes instead of Rachel's reaction.

The truth was still too hard to tell.

The truth was like a virus, spreading over her body, harming every existing healthy cell and turning it into something maleficent, and Donna couldn't ignore that process any longer.

So many years she spent waiting, anticipating, exploring the cons and pros, having rules and then being ready to break them in an instant.

So much time she wasted.

Nothing mattered in the end.

There was something more, but only for her.

And she has been a fool to expect Harvey to feel the same.

She did not see the spark she hoped for, she did not get the response she wanted, and she became awkwardly aware of the fact that she has been the only one investing feelings in this shit.

She always thought, if she would bend the rule, if she would be open, if she would have the nerve to risk this, he would follow her lead like a puppy.

She thought she was in control of the situation, and she thought that if it wouldn't have been for her stupid rule, Harvey and her would eventually end up together.

She assumed it was in her hands, but now she had to realize that it wasn't.

She bathed in a fucking fantasy for all these years.

Thinking it all just depended on her.

When the truth was, he was just never really interested.

Or he wouldn't have given a shit about her rule, or anything else.

If Harvey Specter wanted something, he would get it, one way or the other.

And he did not want her.

Pure and simple.

* * *

After some seconds of absolute awe, Rachel finds the strength to compel her tongue into submission, forcing it to follow her lead and form some actual words.

"What? You...kissed Harvey? Oh my god!"

Rachel presses her palm against her lips from which these words were just delivered, her eyes wide open and bursting of concern, still not trusting her ears to have heard that correctly.

Donna exhales sharply, still averting to meet Rachel's appalled stare.

"Yes, Rachel, I kissed Harvey."

"Holy shit, Donna, how did that happen? I mean, what happened exactly? And what do you mean you kissed him? Wasn't he...wasn't it mutual? "

"I don't know Rachel, it just happened. I walked up to him and just...I just had to know."

"Had to know what?"

"If there is something more."

As the vague and ambiguous undertone embedded in Donna's voice advertises an additional and rather profound meaning, Rachel feels the necessity to concretize this.

"And? Is there? Did he kiss you back, do you have feelings…"

"Goddamn it, Rachel, if you really wanna know, I guess I was in love with him ever since we fucking met, and I couldn't deny it any longer. I had to know, and now I know. And he is...I don't think he feels the same way about me. I...don't know."

Rachel observes how Donna's eyes narrow, emphasizing the oppression she must be enduring by reaching this conclusion.

"Donna, how can you not know that? Did he kiss you back or didn't he? Did he say something?"

Donna bursts out in a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head.

"Rachel, you know it's Harvey we are talking about. He wouldn't say one word even if his life would depend on it, so no, he didn't say anything."

"But did he…?"

"For a split second, maybe. One moment I think that there was something there, and then this moment passes and the next moment I think I was just imagining things, and I'm not sure what's real and what's pure wishful thinking anymore."

Tears manifest in the corners of Donna's eyes, trying to work their way down her cheekbones, but she resolutely wipes them off.

Rachel's soft spoken words barely penetrate the incipient silence residing in the air after that confession.

"I'm so sorry, Donna. What are you going to do? Maybe you should talk to him and figure things out, maybe…"

"What I'm gonna do now is searching for Lisa Delacroix in these human resources files, that's what I'm going to do. And then, I don't' know, Rachel. I simply don't know."

"Probably Harvey will…"

Her voice still constrained by the pain she so obviously was going through, but yet determined, Donna's response was as cruel as it was simple.

"Harvey is in a serious relationship, Rachel. And I made him cheat. Even if it was involuntarily, it still happened. And for him, this is something he will never forgive me. Even if he has any kind of whatsoever feelings for me, I definitely made sure that he will never act upon them. So, I guess that was it."

"Oh, Donna…"

"No Rachel, I'll be fine. It's ok. I can move on now. And search some files in the meanwhile."

* * *

What the hell was taking them so long?

Harvey's only hope was that Donna wouldn't tell Rachel about what happened.

Because Rachel would tell Mike.

And Mike would eventually confront him about it.

And he couldn't have this.

He wanted Donna in his sight, making sure she did not do anything reckless in the meanwhile, and protect her from the intimidations of this nosy bunch.

Whatever happened, it was between them, and it should stay that way.

He wasn't blind, and he saw the conspiratorial looks Mike and Louis exchanged from time to time.

Louis has never been a subtle character and also a perfect example for each and every possible mimic expressing the variety of human emotions.

And Mike couldn't disguise his inner motion when it came down to the close ones in his life either.

All Harvey wanted was not to talk to anybody what this kiss meant for him.

It was like a silent promise, an invaluable treasure that he wanted to keep for himself.

In the end, it might have been a life bending event.

He clearly felt something, something true and honest, and after the first waves of the shock faded away, something real.

For the first time in his life, after his family broke apart, he felt home.

And he could not forget how good that felt.

He wasn't sure what it would mean to him in detail, but he was positive that it indeed meant something.

* * *

Only judging by the resented look Rachel gives him as her and Donna return

to his office, Harvey can tell that their little secret wasn't so secretive any longer.

Fuck.

How could Donna be doing that on top of everything else?

Now it would leak to Mike, to Louis, to god knows who.

When it did not even entirely confront the people it truly concerned the most.

Like him, and Donna.

And Paula.

While flipping through another file on his desk, an impetuous rush of anger starts to pulsate through his body as he considers the consequences for the three of them caused by one single venturous act.

Ok, so to sum it all up, he was fucked.

Donna apparently had feelings for him, or maybe not as he still didn't fully understand what her mysterious "I just had to know." really was about.

What he knew for sure was that he was with Paula, and she was sweet and kind and exceedingly understanding and caring.

He felt good around her.

She made him want to be a better man, the best version of himself around her.

But with Donna, it was something else.

She has seen the best and worst sides, knew about his limitations and his triumphs, and yet, she always was there for him, having his back whenever it was necessary, or talk some conscience into him when it was unavoidable.

And she never wanted him to be somebody he was not.

Closing the current file, and opening the next, his eyes quickly examine the room.

Mike and Rachel were sitting next to each other, corresponding through persistent looks and whispered words.

Louis, craving for some insider information, was leaning in towards them to the extent of risking to fall out of his chair.

And Donna, well, her cheeks had a rather intense than tenuous blush, and her eye makeup did not look as flawless as before.

She was typing, and not paying any attention to her surroundings.

As much as he wanted to resist, the thought of her became more and more present in his head, making it impossible to take his eyes off of her.

Her pressed together lips vouched for her concentration along with the tiny wrinkle in between her eyebrows, the auburn locks framed her face, and he was pretty damn sure her perfume still tingled his nostrils.

Harvey takes a deep breath to prove this thesis right, and to gain back some focus.

He had another dozen files to go through, there was only a few hours left, and he had no time for this.

It would have to wait.

* * *

The pale crimson spectrum of the upcoming sun perforated the dark blue veil of the night, illuminating the silhouettes of the New York Skyline, competing with the electric lights in Harvey's office.

Harvey's eyes were burning from the lack of sleep, the sensation similar to the unlikely event that someone would rub them with sandpaper and then refine the mess with some drops of acid.

Louis' snores disturbed the tranquility from time to time, Rachel's head rested on Mike's shoulder, his head on top of hers, and Donna was staring out of the window, witnessing the change from night to dawn first hand.

He gave up motivating his crew to stay awake a while ago.

They didn't have shit.

One or two files would not change that anymore.

He should send them all home and deal with the aftermath of Van Dyke's claim himself.

He would call Alex to assist him and equip him with the marginal amount of ammunition against Van Dyke based on the little they found.

At least this lucky son of a bitch would be well rested and therefore more resourceful than any of them.

Although every movement of his eyeballs aggravated the relentless ache, they wander off to Donna once again.

Only to meet her gaze.

"Harvey…"

Her whisper, soaked in sorrow, resembles his own despair about their, or to be more precise, his failure.

"We don't have shit."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Harvey."

The inceptive silence following this insignificant disturbance is being interrupted by Donna's profound sigh.

"I wouldn't mind some fresh air, how about you? Rooftop? Let the children sleep."

Harvey, slightly surprised by this proposal, and also quite unsettled to be alone with her, slowly nods nevertheless.

"Sure."

* * *

As soon as they pass behind the glassed doors of the office, Donna shakes her head.

"I have no idea how they could even fall asleep, not with Louis providing this brutal lullaby."

Despite his overall depleted state, Harvey manages to produce a smirk and an amused chuckle.

"True. I was wondering about that too."

They walk side by side in the following consensual silence, all the way up to the rooftop, breaking it only after the first cold strikes of the wind battle with the warmth of the first traces of sunbeams arising.

"We might lose the firm to Van Dyke. And I couldn't do shit to stop that."

Harvey turns away from Donna's worried glance, facing the sunrise, the vivid yellow stripes now noticeably interacting with the purple, camouflaging the shadows under his eyes and bestowing him with a more healthy skin colour.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Harvey. We did everything we could, and you did everything you could in this short amount of time and…"

"Jessica would have solved this within an hour."

The bitter tone in his already husky voice threatens to break her and the urge to caress his arm becomes immensely hard to contain.

"I honestly doubt that. There was just so much we could do and we did it and if…"

"Don't. Donna, just don't try to make me feel better about this shit. I know I'm not Jessica, I'm a shitty managing partner, and now we will lose the firm to this douchebag."

"Harvey…"

"Please, Donna. Don't."

"Harvey, you know this is not true. Nobody could have done anything about it, and we still have some aces up our sleeves. Not much, I know, but…"

"Are you fucking kidding me? We don't have shit and you know it. We just should go home now. I mean, you should. I stay here til Alex comes in, and inform him about the situation and figure out a plan to restrain the first attack to a minimum damage."

"I won't leave you on this, Harvey."

The seriousness and sincerity in her voice leaves no doubt that she really means it.

"How about we get some bagels and some coffee for everybody, wait for Alex, and use whatever we have?"

"Sounds like a solid plan. At least the bagel part."

She gives him a mischievous grin, heading back to the emergency door that permitted them the entrance to the rooftop terrace, as Harvey hesitates.

"Jesus, Harvey, what is it? Can't you figure out what bagel you want? Let me tell you, it will end up with cream cheese, and may I suggest some smoked salmon on top? Or maybe you go fancy and take the avocado and pancetta one? That would be my…"

"Donna."

* * *

Donna stops in the middle of a step, twisting her head in his direction, her features pierced by the anxious and daunted anticipation of what was about to come next, triggered by Harvey's significant but also inquiring tone, transforming it into a demand.

"Donna, what happened…"

"We don't have to talk about this, Harvey. But now, now is really a shitty time for that. We have Van Dyke breathing down our necks, so let's just get the bagels, god knows I'm starving."

Her pleading tone prevents him from inquiring her further, and as Donna continues her walk, Harvey assimilates with her pace.

As they reach the elevator, pressing the lobby button, Donna's cell phone vibrates and informs her of an incoming message.

While scrolling through the content, her eyes widen, her lips forming a silent 'Oh'.

Then she grabs Harvey by his sleeve, repeatedly pulling on it, stressing the sensitive fabric beyond its capacity.

"Oh my god, Harvey, you won't believe this! Lisa Delacroix just answered to my e-mail, and she has plenty of dirt on Van Dyke and the case! And despite the blueberry dispute she is very willing to share it with us! She will give us everything we need to nail this asshole down! We got him, Harvey. We got him!"

"Seriously? She will testify?Holy shit!"

The wide grins on their faces could not quite express the relief they felt, or reinforce the triumph, so Donna just wraps her arms around him, burying her face in the space between his neck and jawline, deeply inhaling his smell, saddened by the fact she eventually has to exhale this exquisite odour a few seconds later.

Harvey's arms wander off, embracing Donna around her back in return, therefore enhancing the pressure of her body on his, absorbing the tickling touch of the red strands of her hair, the sensation of her velvet skin caressing his own, this fucking mouth watering perfume...

And before he could have any kind of awareness as of how it even happened, his lips strike the soft skin of her neck, his fingers slide up until her soft locks are curling up between them.

She tries to pull away, but he wouldn't let her, therefore intensifying the strain in his fingertips residing in her back.

Apparently losing this short battle, her cheek slowly moves up his jaw, her breath about to be merging with his, as she opens her eyes, to find his own exploring her features, seeking for a less nebulous answer than the one she has given him before.

"Donna, what…"

The elevator door opens with a 'Pling', disclosing their intertwined state to the lobby.

That interruptance of the delicate situation is nothing compared to the gasp followed by a british accented interjection fueled with disbelief and irritation.

"Harvey?!"


End file.
